


22

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Birthday Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nino just turned twenty-two. He’s happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. It's miserable and magical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	22

**Author's Note:**

> I basically had to, right? also I don’t know how many times I listened to that song while writing but it was very many times. 
> 
> http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=upZ_q9CdXl4#Taylor_Swift_-_22_(Lyrics)
> 
> (also bragging rights: I will alway be two days older than Nino Niederreiter.)
> 
> Thanks for Bess for betaing, and for nagging me into writing this after more than a year of saying I was going to.

Nino turns twenty two. A few days later he flies back to Minnesota. He takes a cab from the airport back to a stuffy apartment. It's hot, but nice enough to open the windows. He leans on the balcony and looks out over the Mississippi.

Mikke gets back into town two days later. 

Nino picks him up at the airport. Mikke has two huge suitcases, and his hockey bag. He is half awake, with his sweatshirt his up, hiding his face in a cup of coffee he found somewhere between customs and baggage claims. All Mikke's stuff fills up Nino's car, and Mikke sprawls in the passenger seat, legs up on the dashboard.

"I'm going to fall asleep before we get downtown," Mikke says, and he isn't lying, he's passed out before they get into the city. 

Nino doesn't try to do anything with Mikke's bags, doesn't try to get into Mikke's apartment, just drags Mikke up to his own room, into his own bed, where Mikke promptly falls back to sleep. 

Nino is more adjusted to North American time zones, and stays up for a while longer. He watches television for a while, gets reacquainted with the nightly news. 

It isn't until later that he undresses and gets under the covers. Mikke is warm and snoring. Nino hadn't realized he had missed this. 

Mikke's sleep schedule is fucked up enough that he wakes Nino up at some ungodly hour. Of the two of them Nino is the early riser, but even he thinks this is ridiculous. Four-thirty in the morning is too early. Though Nino’s willing to let it slide if Mikke’s waking him up like this. Nino kisses him back, hauls Mikke closer, gives in entirely to whatever this is. They never got around to drawing a line around what they were doing last year, and at this point Nino doesn’t care what they call it, as long as it doesn’t end.

Afterwards they fall back asleep for another couple of hours. Nino wakes up feeling very confident that this is going to be a good year. Twenty-two is his lucky number, and he’s always suspected it will be a lucky age. 

Nino has been twenty-two for five days when Mikke says, "We should go out for your birthday.”

They are in the middle of eating lunch, and Nino doesn’t know why Mikke’s thinking about this. He nods, and takes another bite of his sandwich.

“It’s a good excuse,” Mikke says, like he needs to justify this, which he doesn’t, except for maybe to himself. “I’ll arrange something,” Mikke says, and Nino just nods again. He’ll go along with any plan Mikke makes, but doesn’t think Mikke needs to know that.

Mikke sends out a group text to the young guys who are back in town, _going out for Nino’s birthday tonight, be there_ along with a time and place. It’s very bossy, and Nino tries not to let Mikke catch him grinning at his phone.

They get dinner first — sushi, Nino’s favorite. They have a lot of catching up to do. It’s loud, except for Mikke, who’s mostly quiet, sitting next to him. Sometimes Mikke says something only loud enough for Nino to hear, that the rest of the table misses. That isn’t politie, but it feels like a present. Mikke didn’t get him anything for his birthday, but Nino doesn’t want anything — just this. He wants to be the one who gets to hear all the mean or silly things Mikke says. The rest of the team is great, but he likes that there’s something that is just theirs.

Brods and Dumba have had birthdays since the end of the season too, proper summer birthdays, in July, which no one tries to celebrate. Nino likes having a birthday right on the borderline, so he gets to celebrate it with his family and with his team. 

He likes his team, he’s glad to have these friends. This time last year he was just settling into the Cities, he didn’t know any of them, and he was so busy pretending he wasn’t scared of anything. Now he’s gotten comfortable. He has a better idea of what he’s doing, of how he fits in, and he isn’t as worried about the uncertainties that are left.

The club’s crowded, too many cool kids, but Nino doesn’t care about any of them, he’ll stick close to his team. He doesn’t want to get more than an arm’s length from Mikke at all tonight. It’s too loud to talk, the music too much work to shout over, but they can just dance.

Nino doesn’t know what this is. It’s just — it’s good. 

This year is going to be good. They’re going to be good, whatever this is.

Nino’s probably in love, but half the time he doesn’t understand what’s going on in Mikke’s head. Mikke never wants to talk. Sometimes talking is just so hard when they have to search for the right words in a shared foreign language.

He doesn’t want to overanalyze it, he just wants to have fun. He wants to keep dancing, Mikke’s body pressed close to his own. Maybe later they’ll ditch everyone else and go home. Keep moving together, even closer together. 

Caring so much is bad news — Nino shouldn’t let himself get so caught up. Hockey first, right? Always. But this is as close a second as he’s ever found.

Nino has to have this. Everything will be alright as long as they have nights like this — with dancing close, and laughing, and jokes that are only funny to the two of them.

Eventually they are going to have to figure out what else they want from each other, but not anytime soon. They are still very young. Nino is only barely twenty-two, Mikke only half a year older. They can decide what this is later, when they are twenty-three, or twenty-four, or twenty-five, or thirty, or old. Tonight it will be alright if all they do is dance.


End file.
